


Ieškoti Per Sutrūkusius Prisiminimus

by Kanekididnotdeserve



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types, Hannibal Rising (2007)
Genre: Dreams and Nightmares, Empath Will Graham, F/M, Hannibal Lecter is a Cannibal, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, M/M, Someone Help Will Graham, Superpowers, Will Graham Has Encephalitis, Will has Powers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-27 21:59:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17774975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kanekididnotdeserve/pseuds/Kanekididnotdeserve
Summary: Will Graham is either crazier than he thought or he has a superpower, maybe it's both.OrHannibal (TV) rewrite where Will's empathy may have more too it than anyone ever thought. Can Will keep a hold on himself or will he lose himself in the killers around him?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This is my first fic for the Hannibal fandom! I hope you like it.   
> This fic starts with a prologue set a good ways in the past, but future chapters will take place during season one and two. I will be mixing up what happens in the show a bit, but hopefully it will still feel like Hannibal.

1976: Hannibal (6), Lecter Estate, Lithuania

It took just two weeks of incessant crying for Hannibal to begin imagining his sister’s death. 

The six year old had considered numerous ways it could happen. His mother could trip on the stairs, sending the baby bouncing step to step like a flat soccer ball. The nurse’s attention could slip at just the right time for his sister to find something dangerous in the kitchen. Or, Hannibal could grab the velvet cushion, resting oh so innocently in his mother’s nursing chair, and press it to those flapping lips… It was that thought which circulated his mind several times each day. Every time her screams shot through the mansion, disturbing his rest, his studies, his music, that urge grew a little more. 

It was a mark of his self-control that the baby was still unharmed and over a year old. In truth he had done his best to never be in a room with her. His parents likely played a role in that as well. He remembers the first and only time he got close to his sister. She was tiny, only a few days old, still red. Hannibal’s mother clutched the infant to her breast, crooning softly with a warm look in her eyes that was rarely directed at himself. His father pushed him forward with a gentle nudge and Hannibal got his first good look at his only sibling. She was sleeping softly, on her head was a soft dusting of pale golden hair, like his own. He reached out his hand slowly wanting to know how soft those locks truly were, but before he could the baby awoke and began screaming. Jumping back he knocked into his father and stumbled. When he corrected his posture a scowl covered his red face as he glared at the screaming infant. “She squeals like a little pig, looks like one too,” he hissed.

“HANNIBAL!” his mother scolded, clutching her child tighter to her chest.

His father snagged him by the shirt collar and pulled, hauling him out of the room, as he moved to shut the door he paused and the taller male stared down at his son for a moment with a cold look in his eyes as he said, “That was not how a gentleman responds to his own mistake,” before shutting the door in the five year olds face.

 

Since that time he has avoided his sister. When he cannot, he ignores her presence as best he can. However, her nonstop crying is like needles poking his brain day after day. As the weeks turned to months and months to a year those dark thoughts grew and grew in his mind. His parents were aware something was wrong. In the nights they would sometimes have conversations about him. It was after overhearing a conversation where his mother suggested sending him away to boarding school because she feared the way he looked at her baby that Hannibal decided to enter his sister’s room for the first time in over a year. 

She was awake, whimpering in her cradle, no screams this time it seemed. Hannibal closed the door silently behind himself and padded over to his sister, snatching up the red velvet cushion on his way. He peered down at her. She was larger now, still not talking though. Hannibal began talking before he was one, she was obviously defective. She was laying on pale yellow sheets, dressed in simple pink night clothes, eyes closed. He grinned, feeling true excitement for the first time in a long while as he brought the small cushion down to her face. As he did so he leaned against the wall of her cradle and it gave a slight creak. At the sound bright blue eyes popped open and stared up into Hannibal’s russet ones. She looked at him as though mesmerized for a long moment and Hannibal found himself caught as well, halting the progress of the cushion. Those blue orbs held no trace of fear as she stared at him, not like the servant’s did, nor did it hold the sadness present in his mother’s pale blue eyes. No. There was only joy and curiosity. Her hands reached up towards him, making small grabbing motions. Hannibal’s arms moved on their own to scoop her up, and the cushion lay, forgotten on the floor. Her small fingers clung to his night robe and a happy giggle noise escaped her throat. 

Hannibal held his sister awkwardly, trying to copy his mother and the nurse’s technique. When he was sure he wouldn’t drop her he walked over to the rocking chair and sat down with his precious load. His sister babbled and giggled in his arms, rubbing her head against him like a trusting dog as he ran his fingers through her silky, golden hair. 

“Hello my dear Mischa.”

 

1984: Willie Graham (3), Cypremort Point, Vermillion Bay, Louisiana, Noon

“Daddy! There’s a dog! Can I pet it?”


	2. 2010: New Orleans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Graham is 30 the second time he thinks he is about to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! Second chapter, or rather the first real chapter. Since Hannibal got most of the prologue I figured Will should be the star here.

**Will Graham: I used to work homicide.**

**Jack Crawford : The reason you currently used to work homicide is you didn't have the stomach for pulling the trigger. You just pulled the trigger 10 times!**

 

 

2010: Tom Marshall (29), Will Graham (30), New Orleans

 

Officer Tom Marshall stands before a closed door at Heaven’s Hand Emergency Hospital, he holds a sorry bouquet of flowers and a cheap card with a few signatures from the guys at the station. He shifts his weight to his left foot and reaches towards the door handle, but pauses just inches before touching it and his hand shakes. Shivering, he turns around and heads towards the nurses station to drop off his burden.

 

_*_

_The world is white and cold, loud noises echo above and around him, the smell of blood and danger is in the air. On a bed on fresh snow a stag frantically tries to escape. At his heels five demons chase, bloody axes in their hands. The stag knows, if he can only reach the tree line he will be free, but with each step the distance only seems to grow more and more. A cold chain wraps around his feet and the stag tumbles down. More chains weight him down and he is unable to move as the demons surround him. Hateful words spill from their mouths and they laugh and grin at their dinner. The largest demon approaches, eyes bright and eager as he raises his axe high in the air and-“_

_*_

                Will awakens with a shudder, shoulder aching and alarms blaring all around. He looks around confused and disorientated, he can feel sweat all over his body from his familiar nightmare. He doesn’t recognize the room he’s in but the familiar machinery and ache in his shoulder tell him he is in a hospital. A nurse rushes inside and says something quickly, but Will doesn’t pay her any attention as he looks at some wilting flowers on his bedside table.

 

The Day Before

 

If you asked Tom, New Orleans had way too many homicides. It seems as though for every case he and his partner solve they find three more files on their desk the next day. Tom is still a newbie in the homicide department after transferring last February, but already he has one of the highest closer rates. He knows it makes the veterans frustrated at being upstaged by a rookie, but at least they don’t take it out on him. No. Even if the chief is taking credit in the media for the recent increase in closure rates everyone at the station knows who is really responsible: his partner, Officer Will Graham.

Will is… odd. He’s not a bad guy by any means, but he sure doesn’t make it easy to like him either. His attitude is a piece of work really. It is his peculiarities though, that make working with him, uneasy. There is a word whispered in the station whenever talk of Will’s _gift_ comes up, sorcière – witch. Tom didn’t believe those whispers when he first became Will’s partner and some officers came to warn him. It only took one case for him to believe them though. The way Will walked onto the crime scene and just knew things that he couldn’t, it was magic, or the closest thing to it.

Since February they have worked on many cases, and Will has always taken the lead. It was all Tom could do just to try and follow along with the man’s mental jumps and before he knew it they had their guy, sometimes gal, in hand. Really, it was just frustrating as hell for him to be this useless. Try as he might, his theories on a case never panned out while Will was hardly ever wrong.

The case they were working on today was a serial mugger and now murderer. Their guy had a penchant for stabbing any time his victims try to put up a fight. So far he’s only killed one person, but five others have been sent to the hospital. Within the last month he has become more and more active, with his level of violence increasing as well. Will’s theory is that their mugger owes someone a pretty big debt that’s about to be collected.

They’re on a stakeout now in one of the areas their guy’s been more active in. According to the pattern they’ve worked out, he should strike sometime tonight. All Tom can do is wait and watch for something suspicious… like that guy right there.

Peering out of his car window, Tom watches as a shadow emerges from an alleyway and begins to follow a lone pedestrian. Grabbing his radio, Tom alerts Will and exits his discrete vehicle, following his potential suspect. Will is on his way from the other direction to catch him in a pinch.

Turning a corner Tom curses. He’s gone. The potential victim is all alone on the sidewalk now. His eyes swivel back and forth rapidly, spotting two alleys their guy could have gone down. Looking up he sees Will approaching from down the street. He motions with his hands to signal where their guy went and Will nods in understanding.

Unclipping his gun, Tom enters the first alley cautiously. It’s pretty dark. Keeping to the wall he reaches down with one hand to grab his flashlight. It is as he looks down to hit the on button that a flash of movement registers before something flying hits him in the head and he falls, grunting in pain.

                “Tom!” a worried voice yells at the sudden noise.

                Blinking his eyes, slightly dazed, he realizes what’s happening and tries to raise his gun only to realize he dropped it and the flashlight when he got hit. He can hear pounding feet coming towards him from the entrance to the alley as he looks frantically for his gun and the mugger. He doesn’t see the second but he spots the former a few feet away on top of a newspaper. He lunges and as his hand grasps the handle he hears a gasp and loud thud behind him. Spinning around he can just barely make out two figures grappling. He raises his gun but freezes when he can’t make out which one is the mugger and which one is his partner. The two men struggle and one is thrown to the ground with the other on top, about to bring something, maybe a knife down onto the other figure. They are both wearing dark baggie clothing, Tom doesn’t know who is who, ‘Oh god!’ he thinks.

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

                Tom watches, shocked as his hands and body move, squeezing the trigger over and over as he stands up and walks toward the pair. Each shot hitting the man on top until he topples over but his hands continue to pull the trigger over and over, even as the gun clicks empty. He stands above the now dead man, staring at his blood soaked chest. Then it’s over and he can feel the ache in his head again and his ears are ringing from the gunfire. His breathing picks up as reality asserts itself and Tom drops his gun, realizing what he just did. He collapses to his knees, shaking as he stares at the body. The first man he’s ever killed. ‘Oh God’.  

                A groan comes from next to him. Will. ‘Oh! Will!’ Tom turns to his partner. Will is very pale, one hand clenches his right shoulder which is pouring blood. Will’s eyes are steady though when he looks at Tom and prods, “Ambulance?”

                It is all Tom can do to nod shakily and pull out his phone.

                It is only later, once Tom washes the blood off in the shower that he is able to analyze what happened. ‘I almost let my partner _die_ ,’ he thinks, but frowns, thinking. ‘No. I was too overwhelmed, there is no way I could have just pulled the trigger like that.’ An uncomfortable feeling creeps over him as he recalls the way his body moved, almost against his control. A single word comes to the forefront of his mind, _sorcière._

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I am a graduate student and work full time as well. Comments are my life and will motivate me to write quicker during my small bit of free time. Share some love please!


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